Phantom of lust
by Jessehcka
Summary: Discover in my rendition of the the 2004 movie adaption of Phantom of the Opera how the tale of two souls become one. Delve into the depths where a delicate opera seamstress ignites the fiery passion and lust of the Opera ghost! His urge to dominate and enthrall the young Evaungaline has him questioning his own icey cold heart while Eve tries desperately to understand her own urges
1. Phantom of Lust

It was a brisk chilly night with a light dusting of new snow upon the city streets. The street lamps had been primed and lit for those few stragglers that still littered the alley ways; and for those few late night workers hurrying home to make it in time for dinner.

For the most part the, normally busy bustling, city had closed it's eyes for the night. Families were now tucked away into their beds, pick-pockets, hooligans, and stray beasts now found a small piece of heaven tucked away in abandoned or rundown buildings long forgotten. Everything was as it should be on this chilly night. All except for one glorious opera house.

In the heart of the city was the Grand Opera Populair. It's windows were aglow with happy dancing flames. Outside were the grand guests appearing in their horse drawn carriages, which would quickly by whisked away by stagehands and stable boys.

Guests of all shapes and sizes, dressed in their best petticoats and three pieces suits, gallivanted about before being ushered into the large doors for tonight's showing of a most tragic opera.

Once inside the full life of the Opera house burst open! Hundreds of eager patrons gabled on about the Opera's recent diamond in the rough discovered merely days before! Ms. Christine Daia had made quite a splash within the city's gossip. This gossip was only fueled itself when the newest management flaunted the young woman name in the newest of showings tonight.

Candles shown brightly for the guests to beat away the chill in the air, every piece of silver and gold gleamed to an aesthetic perfection to add to the sense of "awe" the opera house always seemed to offer. The sound of bold laughter boomed above the idle classical music coming from somewhere within the domain. Women cackled and chittered with each other as dancers in exotic garb bounced about the place to enhance everyone's expectations of tonight showing.

Yes it seemed all was alight with life tonight in the grand Populair. Even more excited than the grand ball going on in the foyer, we're the stage hands that roared with excitement! Stage rats, dancers, costume designers, backups, fill-ins, everyone was scampering about in preparation.

Dancers flitted about as they grouped together to once again practice and stretch for their numbers which they new perfectly already thanks to the wonderful teachings of madame Geri. Stage hands abided their time with checking riggings, lightings, scenes, and props. Nothing could go wrong under their inspection else they find themselves tossed to the streets at the beginning of a cruel winter.

It is true to say that it is a true gala once the opera house comes to life. Everyone has their hearts a flutter and their nerves grinding to the bone. Everyone seemed to be celebrating and alive with joy and excitement. All but one young woman who seemed to be having more than her share of work in her workshop.

Workshop was as great and understatement as they came. What she dubbed "workstation" was in fact quite a large facility located directly behind the stage and slightly to the right. It was a room large enough to fit seven or eight full grown women at one time, but however the space was reserved with mannequins, racks of beautiful gowns and tutus, bolts of fabrics, discarded trunks filled with mock gems and studs, shoes and slippers strewn about the floor, and lace. My god the lace and tulle that littered the area was obvious that a seamstress to the dancers was hard at work.

Behind a well used sewing machine was the bobbing and swaying head of a seamstress. Her golden brown hair was pulled back tightly into a signature ballerina bun and secured with old scraps of some forgotten costume. Her hands worked skillfully upon an exotic coat of arms in hues of deep purple and gold trimming that would play a great part in another production. She had been tasked with making repairs upon tutus and layered skirts for tonight's showing, however she had put herself hard at work to get all of her list completed so she could get a head start on her later projects.

Evaungaline Winter was a most talented seamstress. Her talents were passed down through the generations of her family as a proud trade amongst the women of her blood. With each new student it seemed that the talent only grew stronger and more detailed as each child would begin to add their own flare and technique. Eve had always been a lover of the old ways. Where her sisters would keep up to date with the newest fashions and trends to further sell their workings, she preferred sticking to strong ideas and bold stitchings. It's true her sisters names may have been called upon than her own but what she lacked in propaganda she gained in trustworthy reliable recommendations.

It wasn't by some tragic turn of fate that she had come to sell her skill to an opera house. Oh no. It was by choice. Eve had decided to forgo the ideas of designing vibrant gowns and suits for stuffy, air headed nobles and heiress', and put herself to use in a business where her talent would be of actual use and put her closer to her once glorified dreams.

With all of the commotion going on outside of her workshop Eve found it soothing to work. The hustle and bustle going on just outside her door made her heart sing and her pride fly with triumph; knowing that even tho the audience had come to see the vocal miracles that their opera had to offer and the perfected talented dancers that would wow the crowds with their flurries and Paste Duexs, they would secretly be wowed by her own creations of elaborate costumes and accessories.

Without a sound she moved her small hands from under the fabric to lift the foot of her sewing machine. With the fabric freed she gave it a good shake to her left and gave it a prideful once-over. It was a masterpiece in itself, measured perfectly to match the leading baritone's stout form.

The costume was then placed upon a rack consisting of nearly twenty other pieces labeled for the next production. It had been nearly two straight hours she had been working on her laborious love to which she discovered she now had a rare moment of free time. Being the closest to a top seamstress in the opera house as a young woman could get, she rarely had any amount of time to herself, save the moments when sleep was a welcomed guest.

Looking around at the chaotic mess she would surely have to clean up, eventually, she shook her head. How had she ever allowed to let this place get so out of hand? Madame Giri would have about field day with her emotions later, when she was done whipping and caning her dancers to perfection.

Gathering up the bottoms of her dress she made her way through the clutter and exited the workshop.

A burst of music and laughter assaulted her senses. People rushed by her through the tight hallways behind the stage. Woman hung over rafters calling to the male stage hands who went about their jobs and occasionally giving into one of their admirers cat calls. These were the times that really made her proud of her choices in life to live in an opera. She'd never be able to belly laugh with friends the way she did here. There would never be such a flaming sense of freedom outside of these walls where women were to be freshly starched each morning before their cup of tea. In here, people lived a life of lust, liquor, laughter, and comfort.

Closing the door behind her Eve zig-zagged through the heated bodied of her friends. Those who knew her working habits called out in mock surprise that the workaholic has finally come to play. In response she would give them her signature look to which her eyes would shine with enjoyment and her lips would crack into a graceful smile, "Why misteor, how nice of you to notice my absence", would be her simple retort.

She was not as risqué as the other women, nor was she as extravagant. Her choice in hairstyle matched that of her wardrobe, a soft cream colored corset and skirt detailed in dark brown trimming. The skirt was hemmed up in the back to give a gentle scoop at the small of her back, the corset was tight about her small waist and gently pushed at the graceful swell of her breasts that were hidden modestly by a sheer tulle. It was a modest outfit that both made her unnoticeable and enticing at the same time. Her dancers bun stuck firmly to her scalp at the back of her head was meant to take focus away from her delicate features but only accentuated the slender column of her neck.

After working up a bit of sweat trying to untangle herself from the merry mass of bodies she found herself now in a hallways that lead to the small cathedral where many would go to pray. She had once devoted herself dearly to her daily prayers. There was a time when she carried a delicate silver cross around her neck in her pursuits to live an all holy life. But life had had other plans for her in the past. Her visits to the chapel had become less and less in the five years she had been at the opera house. Life had been cruel to a pure devotionist like herself. She had been a great believer in her Jesus Christ before her tragic accident. Staring down at the long darkened hallway brought a sense of irony into her bosom where a deep empty wound would never heal.

Looking away from the holy trek she made a right which lead away from the lively party, away from the disagreed chapel, and away from her labors in the workshop. After a short five minute walk Eve found herself in her haven. A section of the Opera house that had been forgotten in the passage of time once the place had been "reinvented" at the turn of the century.

This haven was nothing more than a cornered section blocked away by a half hanging dusty drapery that had once been used as a stage curtain. It's this black folds gave way to an area half the size of the workshop and almost as clutterd. There were pillows thrown about, some stacked into the corner to make a decent pallet, others were strewn about in randomized places. Tall and short candles were placed in any area to which they could burn, on top of piles of books, the ledges of old metal works, and mostly around the makeshift pallet of pillows.

Eve took in her sanctuary with a lovely sigh. The stress of the day washed away and was replaced by that which was a sense of melancholy. The music was almost nonexistent which was okay with her. It was nice to find some time to yourself once in a while and what little time she ever had was spent here.

She walked into her haven and let the curtain fall behind her. With her feet she pushed some books out of the way to give herself enough room to make a three foot circle. Her right foot pointed, she pushed the last book out of her way then drug the tip of her toe quickly about her sending the hem of her skirt light fluttering about her ankles. This small act brought a silly smile to her lips. Again she brought her toe around, this time with a little more oompf, sending the hem whirling about the middle of her calfs. Her arms went up into the air with their fingers pointed delicately towards each other as her left foot planted itself firmly upon the ground. She focused her gaze directly in front of her at the black curtains as if to draw concentration from their never ending darkness. She stayed like this for a long timei, her breaths coming in and out slowly, building up the courage for her next move. With her last exhale she slowly brought her right leg away from the ground, up her leg to her knee, from her knee to just below her pelvis. Her balance faltered for just a moment, to regain her composer her arms lowered to her wait and then directly outwards away from her. A small sheet of sweat began to gloss over her ivory skin from the strain she now felt.

The cream folds of her skirts now bunched up around her waist with her leg still resting below her pelvis. Finally with enough confidence her right foot moved forward away from her, pointed in front of her then made its way in a circular motion away from her body to which her balance then shifted with the motion.

Quiet. All around her was quiet. She had done this a thousand times but it never seemed to get easier. How simple this move had been years ago, but here she was straining with all of her might just to hold her composure.

Her torso began to lean forward as her leg was brought around her pointing and elongating her calf muscles. The amount of weight on her grounded leg began to shiver from the workout. Her arms that were stretched from her body struggled to keep the baled adjusted for her, this was the moment she needed to focus the most.

Her teeth set themselves tightly against one another from the concentration. A bead of sweat pooled from her hairline down to her collarbone. Her floating leg began to move upwards in a show of practice and awkward grace. This was the farthest she had come in ages of practicing and that in itself was a reward but she pressed on. If only she could retain her form long enough so she could lower her torso flush against her grounded leg. If only the small twinge of pain the was now beginning to make itself known would stay at bay for a little longer.

The small shutters of strain began mixing with the familiar pain ringing inside of her leg. The weight was becoming too much for the ligament to withhold but she had to hold on for just a moment longer!

This would be it! She was close to accomplishing a small goal she had set for herself. In the many times she had come to this exact spot to practice she had never gotten this far, or this long, in a balanced stance. Pain or not she would accomplish this feat!

Slower, even slower her torso began to lower. Her leg shook itself so much it almost sent her crashing to the floor if it weren't for her flailing arms. Just a bit further and this moment would be a triumph! She could feel the sense of excitement over powering the pain that now radiated up the back of her leg to her hips.

With eyes closed she lowered her head feeling the middle of her belly coming flush against her thigh. Just a bit more. Every muscle in her small frame was rigid with the battle of letting go and going further. Her lips peeled back from her teeth in a grimace of determined pain. Just a bit more.

All of a sudden the silence of her sanctuary was broken. Like the shattering of a piece of glass in a graveyard her concentration was broken and her leg gave under the pain and pressure upon it.

Somewhere above her in the pitch black rigging there had been a loud clash of metal upon metal. Someone had been walking up in the rafters?

To mimic the loud clash of metal Eve's body crumpled to the hard floor in a not so lady like manner. Her skirts flared about her in a messy ensemble, her limps laid this way and that in a mess of body parts and clothing. She gave a great hiss of pain as her shins and elbows collided with ground. Whatever had broken her silence had suddenly gone still in her clumsy scene of failure.

She lay there in an emotional mixer of disappointment, frustration, pain, and curiosity. For a moment she let herself lay there in frustration. She had come so close to her personal goal only to have it dashed away by an intruder!

Pushing herself up onto her knees she took care as she stood not to put any weight on her damaged limb. A small hiss of pain escaped her lips once she completely righted and the frazzled skirts of her dress settled about her ankles again.

 _'I was so close this time'_ , she thought to herself.

Looking up into the darkness she strained her icy blue eyes in attempt to catch a glimpse of whoever had sent her crumbling to her fall. There was no movement up above not even a sound of residual movement. Either whenever was up there was incredibly quiet or she had been hearing things all along.

 _'How on Earth could I have been hearing things? Perhaps I've been spending too much time locked away in my workshop'_. she thought angrily to herself in an attempt to rationalize herself.

She remained quiet. So did the rigging. Perhaps she had been so concentrated that she indeed made up a noise in her head. She certainly hoped this was the correct answer for the other answer meant someone was indeed above her, and quite possibly watching her. The small hairs at the back of her neck began to prickle and rise. Whatever sense of pain she had was washed away by the icy blasts of fear. Whether she liked to dwell on it or not she was in fact a young woman in her early twenties and she was all alone in an abandoned part of the theater. This new found situation sank in harder than she'd liked it to have but got her mind in gear. She made quick work of blowing out the candles she had lit previously, leaving only one to which she used to guide herself away from her spot.

All around her the candle bit into the dense darkness. She had never been bothered by the dark like just now. Sure some things went bump in the night but never in her section of the Opera house. Her pace picked up the fraction of a bit.

When she was almost to the juncture where the sanctuary hall met the bustling hallways of stage hands she heard the faint sound of metal being jarred behind her at an alarming rate.

Fear jumped straight from her chest and into her throat; tightening her airways and sending her mind into a spin of horror make believe. Her legs, however painful they seemed, carried her quickly away from the darkness and into the joyous warm glow of the ever increasing bustle of the cast and crew.

Being in such close quarters with her friends should have made a sense of relief wash through her but sadly it did little to cool her nerves. Never had the opera house given her such a shake before. What had been in those rafters just now? Why the sudden chase? Was it even chasing her? Had it even really been there? Perhaps she had spent too much time locked away from the outside world.

Eve clutched her hands tightly in the folds of her skirt as she once again zig-zagged through the throngs of people. The last thing she had on her mind was being alone to peck at more theater costumes. Her destination would be her closest friend within the opera. The goal however, was finding her.


	2. Aneeta and the Opera ghost

_I realize that in the first chapter there seems to be quite a bit of "computer speech". I apologize for the messy reading! I'm assuming it's from uploading the chapter from my phone. This time around I'm going to upload straight from my computer and hope that helps.  
This is a creation from my own mind, so the story will NOT follow EXACTLY to the 2004 motion-picture. So far I've gotten great feedback and have decided to continue on! P.S. Sorry I wasn't able to upload a chapter sooner._

Finally! Eve broke through the throng of people and moved purposefully down a hallway much less crowded then the stage halls. These halls were home to many of the opera's staff. Each room held two beds, two lanterns, and sparse old furniture through out them. The walls weren't much of a mood lifter with their dark dingy stone appeal. Only a few couple of rooms had the privilege of having at least one window, most of the rooms would never see the grace of sunlight. What the small chambers lacked in charm they gained in respect for their secluded position. They were quite a bit always from the noisy concert theater which meant a more peaceful night of sleep, or an easy escape for privacy.

With every door passed Eve began to feel the chill that had previously possessed her skin begin to fade away. As the doors passed by her she knew she was that much closer to being around her best, and possibly only, friend. Aneeta Krous. She was like Eve herself, a seamstress...of sorts. Only months after her own arrival to Populair Ms. Giry had taken in yet another young woman looking for work.

Eve was nineteen years old when she first met Aneeta. The girl had a spark in her eye that could tempt the devil! She was a petite young woman with fiery flames of red hair in un-tamable falls of kinky curls. She remembered very well the first time she had ever laid eyes upon the fellow teenager, she couldn't have been more than her own age at all. Though her skin was young is was peppered with many freckles and a few blemishes that may or may not leave some scaring. Everything about Aneeta had been wild right down to her soul.

The first few weeks training with Aneeta had been a show of comedic defiance. It turned out that the woman had not come willingly to the opera, but her father had sold her TO the opera on accounts of "not being able to handle such a child". During lessons she would feign ignorance to a very simple question, refuse to wake up early for lessons, sometimes she eve refused to show up to the workshop but instead would run off and hide in some part of the Opera house! Eventually Madame Giry had grown tired of her silly antics and had punished her severely by having her hand sew full costumes everyday for almost a month! To say the least she learned just a tad on when to act out and when to keep her mouth shut.

Given the fact that the girls spent much time together in the beginning, the two didn't actually begin talking to one another until many months into their training when Aneeta had come upon a problem she couldn't for the life of her fix. Eve's talent with sewing had began to gain attention from some of the older seamstress' to which Madame Giry also noticed. She had been given harder and harder tasks to undertake to see just where her talent could really be useful. Knowing this, Aneeta, she got fed up with toiling with the forsaken garment and approached the ever serious Evaungaline as she worked away on some lavish skirting project.

Evaungaline was only mending some broken bead work when Aneeta interrupted her concentration on the small details. Startled out of her work she quirked an eyebrow at the fiery person in front of her station in the workshop.

 **"I was hoping you wouldn't mind helping me out here"** , Aneeta said in her funny accent. Her hands held the scarf like object in both of her hands as if it were a helpless animal on the verge of death.

Eve studied the scarf for just a moment, chewing the inside of her lip. It was a mess indeed, the poor thing looked frazzled enough in her natural state as it was, to add on the stress of realizing she's a horrible seamstress? That'd be too much. She raised the foot of her needle and gave the girl a smile. Without words Aneeta gave a chuckle and slightly lowered her head, knowing Eve was going to help. The two shared a silly laugh at how terrible her scarf actually was, then set about to fixing it before Madame Giry discovered them.

After that day the girls would spend time together chatting about how they had come to the theater, and of adjusting to the new life, and how much Madame Geri scared the virgin out of them. For the next few years they only grew closer as adult hood really began to take over in their lives. What use to be silly tales of wanting to be dancers, and pretend plays of being a Pre-Madonna, turned into tales of boys, traveling to new lands, and getting out of the Populair.

Evaungaline grew to be a striking young woman with and old soul. She read what books she could find on romantic adventures, horror collections, brave knights who killed dragons, dark mysterious that broke her heart a million times! Growing up with these tales had her aching for adventures of her own one day. But all of these ideas she kept locked away deep inside of her heart for there was no time for a young lady to think of romance and knights when there was so much work to be done in reality.

Aneeta however grew into a beautiful woman. Her once frizzy locks had been tamed into thick ringlets of curls that cascaded to below her chest, the freckles that had dotted her childish face were covered with stage powders and rogue blush, her rail-like figure was now plump and full figured. None of these features went un-noticed. With her transformation complete she started losing focus of her duties at the Populair. Never the less tho, between the constant adventure and the mishaps that always involved Eve herself, somehow, the two stuck together like needle and thread.

There is was; Aneeta's room! It was tucked between another door and hallway corner. The last few steps she took at a light jog, sending her skirts fluttering behind her, but took a moments pause with her hand on the handle. It wasn't safe to go about opening Neeta's door without first making yourself known, who knows what was going on behind that door. With the tips of her knuckles she rapped a few times and called out to her.

"Neeta? Neeta, it's Eve", she said while at the same time giving the handle a twist then pushing the door open just a hair.

On the other side of the door came a flurry of movement. "Just a moment Eve, let me fix myself", came the hurried voice of her friend.

She waited almost two minutes before she heard a response. "Alright, you can come in now".

The excitement came to a crescendo inside her small chest as she threw open the door and entered her friend's domain. It looked the same as it always had. There were pillows covering the room from head to toe, long pieces of fabric draped over walls, clothing was strewn about without a care, and small trinkets littered mock shelves and the single dresser between two beds. The open bed belonged to another female who worked in the Opera house, but she was always kept busy dancing and rarely made time to join Eve and Aneeta for idle chit-chat. Tonight Eve was thankful for the missing person.

Aneeta pushed herself from her bed with her fists and made a B-line for Eve. "Eve! I haven't seen you all day but it feels like much longer!", she gushed while wrapping her arms around Eve's shoulders in a bone-crushing hug. Eve let out a giant sigh upon her friend's shoulder then wrapped her own arms around her waist to return the affection.

"Oh? What is with the heavy sighs? Have you found yourself a troubling romance finally, Ms. Winters?", Aneeta asked. She pushed Eve's shoulders back so she could get a good long look at her. "Why, what ever is the matter, Eve? You look terrible".

Had she really looked that bad? Her nerves had been raddled but moments earlier but now she couldn't feel the once icy pins of fear. She gave her a reassuring smile.

"No, Aneeta, I haven't found a romance, the workshop sees to that. Actually I had the living Virgin scared out of me not moments ago". With this said she watched her friends expression go from concern to something more serious.

"Is someone giving you a hard time, Eve?" The seriousness in her voice touched Eve. It was moments like these that she was so thankful for the red-headed minx in her life.

"Well...I'm not going to very well stand here and tell you my story", she said and broke from the close body connection to lower herself down upon a very large pillow. Her knees tucked delicately underneath her as best the could, even though the seating arrangement was always awkward for her, and waited for Aneeta to throw herself, belly down, onto her bed. The small metal frame jolted under the sudden pressure and gave a disagreeing screech.

"Alright, what's going on?" Aneeta asked.

"First off, no one's giving me a hard time but the god-forsaken costumes. How on Earth someone can rip a tutu three times in one practice is beyond me", she started. "Secondly, I found myself with a little free time", she paused to quirk her eyebrow at Aneeta's mock expression of surprise. "I didn't exactly feel like joining the others in their rambunctious celebration so I went and practiced a bit on my own, you know, at the back of the theater".

Hearing the word "practice" Aneeta's eyebrows furrowed. "You went off to practice? Eve I know you want to succeed with this but it's not good for you. You could end up really hurting yourself if you keep pushing your limits", she placed her chin in her fists to support her head. "Being all alone back there? You're a young woman and there are some less than civil men working here. Believe me, I've met them", she said adding on a joke about her horrible dating life.

She chuckled at that. It was true, if there was a bad soul in this building Aneeta had sniffed them out and tango'd with them before. The chuckles faded away into a sullen sigh. What she said was true. She may love to practice but her skill was not improving and the pain was never any better. But once upon a time, she had large dreams, and was very good at those dreams, now she was just hoping to get a glimmer of that talent she once had. Choosing to ignore the last comment she continued on with her story.

"Be that as it may, the most terrifying thing happened to me. I was practicing, alone, like I have for years now and had come so close Neeta. The pain was present as ever but I had been so close to perfecting at least one pose. You'd have been so proud of me", she gushed. "I had been concentrating so hard that I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard it", she paused.

Aneeta's eyes grew in size, her bright green eyes flaring with curiosity. "Well, go on! What did you hear?", she pressed.

"Well, it sounded like someone had been up in the rigging's. The next thing I knew I heard the loudest bang of a walk-way being smacked against more metal as if someone had been walking across them! I was so startled that I completely crumbled to the floor!"

Aneeta gasped. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes. I'm fine, but I looked up into the rigging's and saw no one, not even the sound of a breeze. Someone had been watching me practice Neeta, and when I blew out all of the candles and began walking back to the stage hallways I heard the noise again! This time there was definitely footsteps coming after me!", she finished.

Telling the story had once again brought her heart beat up. She remembered the lump in her throat as she walked through the dark hallway back. It had been like nothing before. This had been why she had sought out her friend.

"You saw no-one in those rigging's? Could it had just been some old ropes settling in from time setting in? Eve, those rigging's haven't been used since we've come to this place", her friend rationalized.

"That would explain the first crash I heard, but what about the footsteps? They sounded as if someone was at a fast jog" She retorted. She hadn't expected her to rationalize her tale. Normally she had a thing for mystifying even the most simple stories.

Neeta lay on her bed for a moment mulling over the information. At first her expression was thoughtful, as if she were about to come up with a perfect answer for her friend. She waited for a response, anything, to say that she had just over reacted to the entire event and that she could continue going to her sage haven without worrying there might be some ill-intended person following her. Watching her.

What seemed like forever passed when the look of thoughtfulness turned to that of a cat like grin. Neeta gave a quiet chuckle as she rolled onto her back and then up off the bed in a fluid movement. She had that face on. The face that foreshadowed a dramatic rendition of story time. She bent at the waist and brought her face so close to Eve's that she could smell the stage powder that covered any blemishes from her sight.

"I believe, little-miss-Winters, that you have just had your first encounter with...", she paused to further draw out the tension. "The Opera Ghost".

It was as if the room had suddenly become thirty degrees colder. Once again the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention and the sound, what little there was, disappeared. Her eyes widened at the word "ghost". What on Earth was she talking about?

"Opera ghost?" She whispered.

"The Opera ghost! They say he has lived in this opera house ever since it was built. The stage hands tell horror stories to all the girls at night of his horrible acts of terror...and murder. They say he roams these opera halls looking for his next victims, picking and choosing whoever he likes. He wears a cloak as black as Satan's eyes, a mask that's whiter than the purest snow flakes, his hands are not hands at all but crooked claws, and his eyes..oh his eyes are as red as blood and they are the first and last thing you will ever see of the Opera ghost when he flies through the air and takes you to his lair where he then eats you alive", as she told this haunting horror story she bent her fingers into mock claws while moving about her room in lavish bold movements to mimic catching a prey and eating their eyeballs away.

"Aneeta", she started. "There are no such things as ghosts. The stories you hear from the stage-hands are just that, stories. You don't expect me to believe some silly tale like that now, do you?". She rolled her eyes. She almost preferred her to tell her a rational story compared to this poppy-cock.

"But there is a ghost Eve! Many people have seen him if only for a moment. I don't believe he is as gruesome as they make him out to be, but he does exist. He is the strange noises that go bump in the night, the reason why supplies suddenly up and vanish, the haunting melody that you hear in your sleep but can't seem to remember when you wake up. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

She wish she could deny the question. It was no secret that some people have talked about a song in their heads that they couldn't remember. They would try to get the rhythm to the song out but nothing ever sounded right. Instead of giving an answer she just cast her stare to the ground.

"Yes, you do. There is an opera ghost Eve, and you've just witnessed his charm".

Letting out another sigh she shook her tightly bunned head and gave her friend and exasperated look. "You should be awarded for your amazing acting skills Neeta".

She let out a charming giggle as she grabbed the folds of her night dress and twirled about in a cute show. "Shouldn't I?" she replied.

"By the way Neeta...why aren't you working?". To this question all she got was a giddy burst of laughter. Madame Giry would have a field day with her tomorrow.

 _I went back and finished writing this chapter. I had some fantastic hints and criticism that inspired me to add a lot more "beef" to the story seeing as how there had been little to no speech or action so far. I intended this chapter to be character building, but I hopefully did a good job at blending the "beef" and building. Please let me know what you think of this chapter! Another shall be added tomorrow. P.S. I've also been informed that my spelling of Madame "Geri's" name was incorrect so I did my best to correct this. Please inform me if you discover a slip-up of mine._


	3. The Ghost appears

_I'd like to remind my darling readers that this is an adaptation. Therefor the actual flow of this story will not follow_ _EXACTLY_ _the same time line as the 2004 movie. Let's let our imagination run wild together._

The Opera house was alive with gossip. The huge success of last nights show had gone off without a hitch! Everyone was buzzing around with news of how last nights performance had went with the leading soprana, Ms. Christine! She was now the official talk of the theater. You couldn't finish a conversation with anyone without the name Daia being mentioned at least twice.

It was now mid-day and the word had spread like wild-fire. For those who had performed in last nights premier they now took the day off to celebrate and bask in their job-well-done. For those less fortunate than others, they spent their day immediately preparing for the next premier which was only weeks away. Artists, Composers, Directors, Back-up singer and dancers all began rehearsals and new stage designs for there was no time to waste when your opera house was now the place to be for anybody who was anybody.

For Eve and Neeta they were less than un-lucky. After her little visit to her friend; Eve later learned that Madame Giry had indeed discovered Neeta's little escape routine. She decided that the perfect punishment for a relentless seamstress would be to work from sun up to sun down practicing stitches on old costumes the opera would never use again...by hand. This was Neeta's least favorite thing to do. She'd gladly chew on needles and nails than toil away with her sewings. It was pure torture for her to constantly prick her fingers! Whatever garment she had been working on now looked as if it belonged in a museum for war with how many blood stains it had accumulated.

Apparently, spending a few hours with Neeta last night meant that she had willingly enabled her friend to skip her responsibilities and therefor she was as much responsible for skipping duties as Neeta was and so she had shared the same punishment with her friend. At first she had tried to defend herself and brought up the point that she had finished all her work for the day and had already started on her projects for the next rehearsal but Madame Giry was having none of it. And like a mother to an errant child she gave this look that stopped any and all protest from both women.

The day had gone by extremely slowly for the two of them. In the beginning they had tackled the work load with high spirits and a lot of laughter. They chatted about the performance, how horrible of a stitch Neeta had, of how many people had turned up for the premier, and how drunk some of the handy men had gotten. Neeta spoke of her ideas for her future, she wanted a husband and three children, a large home full of music and messy hallways splattered with memories of her family and memories, she also spoke of throwing grand parties full of laughter and expensive champagne! The pictures she painted for Eve were by defiinition magical.

Both women took turns throwing ideas of their futures at each other. Where Neeta spoke of nesting and high-life living, Eve spoke of dark adventure. She talked about leaving the opera house and using her sewing ability to discover new things! She spoke of setting out and leaving the city to discover and entire world out there full of danger and excitement. She wanted to dance under the moonlight in nothing but her skin, learn a new language maybe, go to a ball where no one knew her and grab everyone's attention as if the ball had been just for her and maybe...just maybe at this ball there would be a masked man who capture her heart for the night only to disappear the next day leaving but one clue for her to forever remember him by. Neeta had been less than satisfied with her version of a future. Why on Earth would anyone want to have their prince charming for one night? 'You should reel him in while you have the chance', she had said. Apparently the mystery aspect of her romance wasn't good enough for her.

After seven or so hours past of straight talking and sewing the two had run out of things to share with each other and had fallen into a state of comfortable silence. The day wore on and eventually the sun had began to set. In the workshop there wasn't much light to be offered from the outside so their sight relied on the many lanterns that illuminated the large space. A few more hours passed and night had finally settled in on the opera house and the women were now feeling the edge of exhaustion.

Eve finally set her sewing needle down upon her lap. She had moved herself around the workshop many times to get a change of scenery, now she was sitting at her sewing desk with her head bent and the world's worst neck cramp settling in on her bones. Her fingers were now almost white from the amount of use and abuse they had suffered all day, she even made it out with only pricking herself about five times! That was a good sign. With a heavy sigh she straightened her back she hadn't noticed was slumped over, almost every bone from her tail to her ears cracked in perfect unison. The sudden sound brought Neeta out of her drowsy trance which was fixated on her bloody macabre of a bodice, and up over to her friend.

"I don't think I could make even one more stitch if I tried", Eve said. She set her sewing kit down on her desk then stood with one hand placed on the small of her back to aid in ridding herself of the discomfort.

"I promise you this is inhumane! I've lost all feeling in the tips of my fingers and I'm sure I've lost at least half of my weight in blood to this pointless task", was Neeta's response. She tossed her scrap to the side without a care in the world and all but jumped out of her sitting position on the floor.

As if on some sort of que the door to the workshop opened wide and there stood the statue like figure of Madame Giry. Her face was its usual grim lack-luster, her hands were placed ontop of one another on the tip of the cane she always seem to sport around. Both of their heads snapped to attention as all thoughts of pain and suffering disappeared.

"Girls", she said.

Following routine, both of the women slowly hobbled over to Giry with low hopes. It was just bad luck that the one moment they took to pause and stretch themselves out would be the time that Madame would happen to come in for a visit.

"I see we've decided that our punishment is over?", she questioned sarcastically.

"But...!", Neeta started but was cut off by a single wave of Giry's hand.

"I've not come to argue, Aneeta. I've come to tell you that your dinner is ready and that you may take leave now. What good would two half-starved seamstress' be to me?"

The amount of relief that rolled through Eve's shoulders was tremendous! No more stitches or bead work! Neeta nearly jumped out of her skin with excitement if the pain she felt hadn't nearly crippled her. Nevertheless her face lit up with a large smile that almost touched both of her ears.

"Thank you so much Madame Giry, we will take our leave now", Neeta chirped.

"I expect you to learn from this", Giry said while casting the two of them a look that almost taunted them to see what new sort of punishment she could come up with. Not wanting to take her up on the insinuated offer, Eve left the mess in the workshop as it was and followed her friend out of the room, sliding past Giry with a curt nod.

"Are you going to come with me to dinner?", Neeta asked.

Even after all of the slave labor she had just gone through she couldn't say she had much of an appetite. What she wanted to do was move. Too much time had been spent sitting down and crouched over! She had spent enough time in the past being forced to bed rest after her accident so now long periods of sitting tended to make her skin crawl and her muscles ache.

"I'm sorry, but I think tonight I'm going to try and get a bit of practice in. Would you mind saving me a snack for later?"

Neeta paused in her springy step and faced her friend. She knew that look. It was the look of a mother about to scold her daughter. Everytime she mentioned going out to her "spot" Neeta always had something to say about. Today though, she just wasn't feeling the pressure. To stop the on coming speech Eve held up her hands defensively.

"Neeta, I won't be long, it's already so late. I just need to work out some of these poor bones before bed, yeah?"

She let out a heavy sigh before she spoke. "Look, Eve. I care for you I do, I always will. You just be careful going down there alone. If you're not back in your room by the time dinner is done I'm coming to drag you back myself, yeah?".

She just shook her tightly-knotted head. It was as good as a quick speech that she'd get for tonight. The two of them hugged their goodbyes before splitting off to go their separate ways. The hallways were relatively quiet tonight compared to the last few days. The candles that burned along the paths flickered in joy and warmth to whom ever they were guiding that night. Ever so often a stagehand would pass her on their way to do who knows what which meant most of her walk was spent in silence. This didn't bother her one bit.

As she strolled along she thought of many things. She thought of the new coming shows, how many garments she had made today, if Neeta would actually save her a snack, and if today would be the day she'd accomplish something in her practices. But as she began to get closer and closer to her make-shift nook her thoughts began to wander to a more darker side of things. She began to recall the story Neeta had told her of the Opera Ghost. Though she did not believe in such fairytales, her friend had a way about her that made even the most ridiculous seem quite possible. Just what if...what if this Opera Ghost was a real person, and even worse yet what if he had indeed been watching her practice?

The chill in the air and the force of her own thoughts cause her skin to pimple. She rubbed up and down her exposed arms to maybe return some warmth to them as she was making the final stretch to her curtained off area. From what she could see everything looked to be in order. The heavy black curtain laid just as it had when she left it. The candles were snuffed out leaving only her imagination to make up what could be behind said curtain. She stopped by a close candle and picked it up. The gentle glow from the flame calmed her nerves about the darkness, but did little to warm her skin.

She took in a deep breath before pushing her way through the curtain and into her sanctuary. Every atom of her being hummed with adrenaline. What little light the candle offered cast menacing shadows on the many trinkets and pillows she had collected but now wish she hadn't. She took a few more steps into the quiet abyss and began to light the many many candles strewn about as quickly as she could. In her mind she was thinking the faster there was more light, the faster her heart could return to a normal rhythm.

It took her only seconds to get the candles lit and bask herself in brilliant light. Once again the sanctuary looked its normal comforting self. Everything was as it should be exactly! Nothing was missing or out of place which meant no one had come snooping around. For some reason this did little to aid her heart, in fact it almost seemed to make it feel achingly disappointed. Had she wanted to come back to find something...odd? As she lost herself in her thoughts of contemplation she chewed on the inside of her lip which was her staple trait of distress and concentration.

'Of course I wouldn't want to find something out of place! I must be going mad', she thought to herself as she shook herself free of her trance and set her candle down at a safe distance.

It was time to get down to business. Neeta was more than serious with her threat of coming to fetch her if she wasn't back in time; which meant she had little time to get some practice in. She went to work clearing a bit more room for herself this time, just in case she happened to have an accident again. Once everything was in order she took her place in the center of the clearing and began to do her stretches. It was always this time that her mind quieted itself and fell into a trance like state. All thoughts of adventure and feelings of emptiness left her and replaced themselves with pure raw emotion. Emotion so strong it uncoiled itself from her belly and stretched through her veins to ignite the passion that fueled her soul.

With her eyes closed her hands moved about her head in graceful dips and swoops; her feet and legs bent then slid across the floor in effortless grace that took many years of practice and devotion. These stretches had been engraved into her mind since childhood and had been altered only in her adult life to better accommodate her imperfection. Instead of bending completely at the waist, as she would normally do, she could only bend halfway before her leg muscle would sear in warning. She would give and take with this pain. Sometimes she'd release a position to avoid the burn, other times she would push herself until the burning sensation began to travel higher up into her ligaments. Somewhere in her mind she played an old melody to herself as she warmed up. It was a melody she created herself years ago that would always lift her spirits into the rafters and charge with the motivation to accomplish great goals!

As her stretches came to a close she found herself in such a pleasurable state of mind she flowed straight into a silly twirl that sent her skirts flaring up around her and sending small gusts of wind about her that in turn, danced with the candle flames about her. This small twirl was ended by a pointed right toe extended away from her side. Her arms were arched high above her head then swooped down to the side then down and back up with momentum that turned her body as her extended leg came up and around to once again twirl her about. As her body spun and spun around she let out a happy laugh. It was exhilarating in the way her body seemed to fall back into routine. Every inch of her skin felt alive and no longer cold from her earlier fear. Her tiny feet danced about the hard floor making little to no sound except that of her heavy clothing making soft clashing sounds.

It was now that she was more free than ever. These moments away from work, away from Neeta, away from the busy bustle of everyday life that repeated itself over and over. It was this small corner of peace that her soul seemed to unleash itself and paint the room in an aura of serenity and acceptance. The emotions that whelled up inside of her tiny body became so great she cast all caution to the wind and danced her heart out, releasing a pent up aggression she hadn't known she harbored.

What were soft gentle sways of dance became quick demanding slices and jabs. Her legs began lifting higher in her extends then ever before while her chest heaved and hoed as her breathing became labored with strain. She threw herself forward and then back, her feet making solid connection with each step. Her brow was creased from the expression of sheer frustration and pure animosity that radiated from her aura. Deep inside of her chest there seemed to be a heavy stone that weighed so much and ached even more so. What was this strange presence inside of her? Where did these emotions come from and why were they so strong all of a sudden?

The moments began to loom by as if time had began to slow down for her. The opera house was already silent but to her everything seemed to become muted and still. Something was building within her small chest and needed to come out. More and more she pushed her already strained body to its breaking point. She needed to continue till exhaustion, needed to release whatever it was that was trapped. It was as if some demon had taken possesion of her very soul and was controlling her to become a dancing nymph! Her body was on fire for a cause she did not know...her mind had already become blank except for the shrill tune in her mind that seemed to progessivley become more speratic.

All caution was gone. Her arms dramatically splayed out to her sides with palms wide open and accepting. Her chest gave three strong heaves before her torso dropped to her knees and her right arm snaked about her leg to grab her ankle. The cresendo was beating away inside of her mind now. If she didn't move now she feared she'd burst right out of her skin and shatter into a thousand tiny pieces! All around her there seemed to be a sense of danger and dark need, it called to her in a way, tempted her in many more ways. With her head cast down her eyes sprung open and her body launched upwards bringing her leg with her. The wind whisked by her ears at an alarming rate that only amplified her adrenaline. She didn't so much as focus on what was around her but what she was feeling; and that is pure release. Her arm extended above her with her leg perfectly aligned with her body straight in the air. Her left hand was out at her side in a graceful point as her left leg stood firm and balanced to support her weight. Finally.

Time stood still.

After all she had tried and failed...after the sweat and tears she'd gone through in the last years she had accomplished something. A small sliver of her past self seemed to fall back in place the moment her leg extended and remained straight. The thick weight that had been upon her heart shattered in waves of ecstacy and joy that washed through her being and instantly heated her by ten degrees. Never before had she felt something so overwhelming! Her eyes began to come into focus to the world around her and the tune that had been crashing about in her mind had fallen silent. This moment would be forever burned into her memories as the time she had began to take back her life, for herself.

From her lips burst a sobbing laugh of triumph. It was short and gurgled but it revealed so much at that moment. It was the only sound she was capable of making at the moment and dammit, that was okay! She looked down at her left leg and almost cried in satisfaction. There had been no pain at all! She couldn't remember exactly when the pain had faded away, but as she stood there in her perfect dancers pose there was no warning signs, or unbearable feeling of pain! Everything was as it should have been. Her eyes went to skirt back up to what she was doing but caught on something in her peripherals. Something that made her blood turn ice almost instantly and her senses soar with danger.

The color drained from her face and whatever sense of freedom she had came crashing down upon her like an icy cold bath. The same fear that had vice gripped her heart from the last time she had come here had returned ten fold. If her eyes could bulge from her head, they would do that now and happily fall to the hard floor beneath her. A floor in which she wished would swallow her whole right now.

Before her was the grand curtain as it should be. It blended in well with the dark backdrop that made it seem like a wall of darkness that would stretch on forever, but it was what was there at the opening of the curtain that shouldn't be there...or who was standing there. It was a man. A very well dressed man who stood stock still as if he was made of stone. His hair was perfectly slicked back and cut short to his head. A bright white mask covered part of his face in a perfectly sculpted grimace of pain, his suit was masterfully tailored to perfection; it left little to the imagination as to what strong abled body was laying beneath it. Around his shoulders was a heavy cloak that blended him in perfectly with the darkness which is probably why she hadn't noticed him in her crazed moment of passion.

It seemed as if forever passed between the two of them. No one said a word, or moved, or even blinked for that matter. It wasn't until she realized she had been holding her breath that she broke whatever spell had been over them. Once she realized she needed to breath in order to live all of the pain she thought had been gone came crashing down upon her. It took over every sense she had and buckled her instantly. Her body came tumbling down in a heap of arms and legs once again and hit the ground very hard. Her knees slid out from under her, her arms tangled themselves within her own limps and her head came smacking down to the side making a sickening "smack" sound as it made contact. The vision before her dimmed considerably and was replaced by a haze as if something had gotten into her eyes. Everything spun around her and made her stomach lurch in response.

The sound of buzzing could be heard all around her as she desperately tried to focus on the dangerous situation she found herself in. The Opera Ghost had appeared! He was real! He was a living breathing creature and he was here with her, away from safety! She should have listened to Neeta and went to dinner and the none of this would have happened. As she lay there in a heap of pain, her fuzzy vision made out the form of the Ghost's cloak swooping in towards her. This was it. This is how she met the end of her fate, but at least she could say she had obtained one piece of herself she had lost before the end.

Her body was gently rolled over and detanlged from itself with skilled gloved hands. She felt the rustle of her skirts being organized back around her legs. Heaven only knows what sort of mess she looked like right now, and did she care? No. There came a sense of pressure upon her left leg that made her burst out in a loud agonized yell. The sound caused her head to split even more and turn into a moan of despair. This man was touching her now? Was her going to murder here and now? Neeta would be coming for her soon! Dinner had to be almost over and any moment now her friend would come through that curtain and save her. Or so she thought in her haze of confusion.

If she had any strength left in her body she would have tried to escape like the heros in her books. She'd have miraculously sprung back from the pain and fended off the evil goon who was now working on blowing out some of the candles around them.

'Oh no, not darkness', she thought. Fear began to strangle her and muddle her thoughts. What was she to do in this situation? Why couldn't she move any of her limbs?

In the pained form she was in she let out a few soft moans of pain and tried to wriggle about but two strong hands came down and clamped her arms above her head. There was a sudden sense of heat and pressure upon her chest she couldn't place...and then she saw him. He was holding her body in place on the floor with his own and his face was now inches from her own. Even within these close of quarters her eyes refused to obey here and focus so he was but a dark blobbed figure above her, looming. Her nose however was as strong as ever and picked up the dark musk that was the Opera Ghost. It invaded her senses and took over the nerves in her brain in a calming trance. Each section of her body slowly began to calm down and dim from the pain. So far, he hadn't actively attacked her or strangled her, so things could be going worse for her.

Something soft and deep reverberated against her chest before she realized he had been talking to her. There was no understanding the mumbo jumbo that was being said, but the tone of his voice rattled her rib cage in such a delicious way it confused her. He must have noticed the sudden change in mood for his heat was removed from her body instantly and replaced once again by the chilly opera air. Before she could protest the act she was startled by his arms coming underneath her legs and shoulders and picking her up effortlessly.

The world went topside around her and the noise of everything muted. Her tiny frame fell to this side against his hard body to which made her thing of how many times was she going to collide with something hard tonight? Could she survive much more of this? The two of them brushed out from under the curtain and into the darkness of the opera house. He said nothing more to him, and she said nothing even if she could! With each step they took into the darkness her vision blurred more and more. Wherever this man was taking her she was sure it would be the last place she ever ventured to, and what a pitty she wouldn't be able to witness it.

With heavy lids and an even heavier heart she used what last amount of petty energy she had and turned her face up so her nose was flush against his jaw line. She breathed in deeply his scent to tickle her mind once more before saying her last sentence. "Thank you, Opera Ghost". Her vision disappeared and her body went limp.

The Opera Ghost held the tiny woman in his arms as he descended into the dark depths of the opera hallways that he knew like the back of his hand. Somewhere behind him he could hear the alerted sound of a females voice calling out. "Eve?! Eve, where are you?!", she called. He bothered not with the lass and kept on his path to darkness with the woman he now coveted in his arms. It seemed he has stumbled across quite a gem tonight. Finally his form disappeared into the depths with only the sound of his cloak swooshing behind him as the night swallowed both of them up. 


	4. First encounter

_Thank you all so much for the love and support you've given me! It's been a VERY hectic time for me (big move, big break-up, yadda yadda) and each time I look back on all of the lovely comments I've gotten, it fuels me with the fire I need to continue on! This chapter gets everything put into motion; and everything that happens here happens for a reason. Keep in mind that even tho this is an adaption to Phantom of the Opera; Eric, the phantom is going to have minor personality differences, I'm simply giving him more dominance and possessiveness. He will still remain the dark phantom that we all know and love so don't worry_.

The main ballroom was lit to its best! All around were the strange reflective faces hidden by extravagant masks of all shapes and sizes. She watched as bodies danced and flourished all around her in a heady sensation of intoxication. There was a deep concert playing somewhere in the background, the smell of food and strong perfume assaulted her nose in a wonderful concoction. She shouldn't be here right now, she should be back in her workshop mending costumes and detailing. Her mind was swimming in a sea of pleasure filled fog. Try as she might she couldn't muster up the sensibility to pull herself away from the party.

Like a small child once again she let herself be pulled into the mass of moving people. She laugh and they laughed. Faces, oh the faces, came in to and out of focus to her blurred vision; all of them seeming to be enjoying themselves in the strange pleasure that permeated the air. Who were these people? Why was there a ball going on? Had Christine performed tonight without her being aware? All of these questions went buzzing through her mind but none of them seemed to matter to her. What was wrong with her?!

As she continued to join on the festivities the music began to become louder, the dancing become more promiscuous, the fog became heavier. Faster and faster the room began to spin around her morphing the once joyous faces into monsters from the deepest darkest novels in her mind. It seemed as if the room would never stop spinning, as if SHE would never stop spinning along with it. Over and over their laughter began to assault her ears to which she desperately threw her gloved hands up to cover and hide from the insanity. The cackles and shrilled screams began to dim in ferocity. In a confused haze she glances wildly about her even as the sound became mute; the world continued about her.

She turned once more and there, through the crowd was a menacing presence. The black fog swayed and dodged between the bodies that seemed to become more distorted with each passing second. By now her heart beat was hammering her small rib cage into submission, her hands clamped over her ears began to shake. The fog that had clouded her mind just moments before disappeared so quickly she was almost tackled to the floor with the fear and adrenaline that spiked up in its place. The black fog approached at a slow pace. The aura coming off of it screamed at her to run away, to run as fast as she could or else. Or else what? Even if she wanted to run there was no way her weak legs would allow her to move more than a step. And still the fog approached. Closer. Closer.

Reflected in her large doe like eyes was the massive shapeless blackness. It towered over her smaller body like a giant storm ready to come crashing down on her and swallow everything that was her being. Fear now choked her throat making it impossible to breath; it was like whatever this thing was was sucking the very air out of the room. Suddenly her body began to shake violently! Her shoulders heaved back and forth with such strength it snapped her head back and forth. Whatever hold that had been on her vocal cords was now gone and from her mouth came fourth an ear piercing scream; and with that scream came the sound of shattering glass all around her..."Eve!" ... "EVE!"

All at once Eve's body jerked to life from her bed. She took deep gulps of air as if she had never breathed before. Her usual tight bun was now tossed wildly to the side of her head and her face was dripping sweat.

"Eve?! Oh thank the heavens you're awake, you were screaming something aweful in your dream", came the concerned voice of Neeta.

Swirls of colors and shadows came into focus slowly. The sounds of the quiet bording room that had been her home for so many years began to slowly comfort her racing heart. Her eyes darted everywhere, as if whatever dream she had been having would spring back to life if she didn't cover every inch of the room. When the threat was no longer nagging at the front of her mind, she focused on her friend who was perched on the side of her bed. It took her a moment to focus and fight back the terrible pain that drummed the edges of her skull.

"N, Neeta", she croaked out. Her throat was oddly dry.

"Yes, it's me Eve. You were having a night terror", she said bluntly. Her red flaming hair was in full force tonight. It's frizzy locks sprayed out around her delicate features in a ferocious mane of fire. It was comforting to her.

"Where, how did I get here?", Eve asked in a froggy voice.

Before she answered her Neeta removed herself from the bed and poured her friend a cup of water that was located by the bedroom door, it was refreshed once every day in the morning; so sadly it wasn't going to be exactly crystal crisp. She brought the rough cup back to Eve who greedily sucked down the luke-warm drink.

"Thank you", she said refreshed.

"Eve, I have no idea how you got back here", she started while setting the cup down and settling back down on the bed.

"I was in the back opera house, I was dancing...and then something happened...but that's all I remember...I think there was...no I don't remember anything Neeta" As she spoke her own post-adrenaline from her dream had her small body shaking.

"Oh Eve, you're shakin' like a leaf", Neeta went into full mother mode and began wrapping the crude comforter around Eve's shoulders and fluffing the pillow behind her back. "Whatever happened is in the past love, you're safe here in your bed. I went looking for you after dinner and when I couldn't find you I almost lost my mind. That was almost two hours ago! I searched this opera house high and low looking for you. I came back to your room in the last opes' to find ya and here you were sleepin' like a babe".

Eve sat there for a moment taking in all of the information Neeta was giving her. Nothing was making sense. She remembered dancing her life away in her spot. She remembered the triumph that had washed over her, but what happened after that? How did she get into bed? All of these questions buzzed about in her head making an awful storm flare up that did nothing to aid the already throbbing mess that was her head.

With an aggravated grunt of pain she laid her back against the fluffed pillows then let out a long sigh. She knew Neeta wanted all of the information right there and now but she did not have the strength to carry on a conversation at the moment; let alone the memories to recall. From beneath her long lashes she looked at her worried friend and gave a smile to the best of her abilities. "My dear friend, I wish I could tell you what happened but right now I feel as if Death himself is inside my mind".

A look of alarm flashed across Neeta's face but was quickly replaced by one of understanding. She shook her head sending the mass amounts of curls flying about reminding eve of tiny fire flecks that cracked from a warm fire on a cold night. "You should know I don't want to leave you in this state", she said while grabbing hold of Eve's hands.

"I know Neeta, but here in my room I am safe. I promise no adventures for me for a long time", she reassured while giving a weak squeeze.

With a heavy sigh to show her remorse Neeta leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her friends forehead before removing herself from the bed. Eve watched as she walked over to the door and giving one more glance back to make sure she hadn't suddenly disappeared in the second it took her to reach the door. Once sure that she hadn't left she gave a quick wave and then exited the room, shutting the door behind her.

All at once Eve removed her hands from the warm cover and clutched her skull while rolling over on to her side. The pounding was only now starting to wither away to a dull ache behind her eyes but lord did she wish it'd go away all together. Deciding against getting up and dealing with the mess that had become her life tonight, she covered herself up and closed her eyes. The best option for now was to get herself back to sleep and hope that tomorrow morning everything would straighten itself out.

...

The next morning had a pleasant normality about it. Eve had gotten up for the day without a pounding skull and a hunger that would rival even the hungriest of soldiers! Neeta had been her gentle wake up call and the two of them scurried off to catch breakfast. The two of them didn't talk much about what happened last night, mostly because the first time Neeta brought it up Eve had cast her a look of for-boding, so the conversation was left to the wind. There was of course a want to talk to Neeta about her triumph in her dance last night, how she had lost herself in whatever sense of freedom had entranced her, but she knew that if she even so much as uttered a bit of information to the little minx she'd have to spill the entire story; that was a road she wasn't ready to venture down.

After breakfast the two made their way to the workshop and began to tackle their daily tasks. Apparently over night work had piled almost sky-high for them. With a new production meant new costumes and old repairs to recycled garments. Neeta had taken her first steps into the workshop and immediately began complaining about her poor fingers and how she was sure Madame Giri was hell bent on punishing her for unknown crimes. Eve had reassured her friend that it wasn't going to be as bad as she thought because she had already been working on the next performances work load ahead of time.

As the two of them went to work there was something in the air around Eve. Her fingers worked just as well as before but with each stitch she put into the mass amounts of beautiful exotic fabrics she seemed to be stitching in the secrets and mysteries that plagued her. For hours she sat quietly musing over the thoughts in her brain, desperate to put the shattered pieces of her memories together of what happened after her own triumph. No matter how she scrambled to think it was as if her last memories were nothing but sheer fog constantly eluding her fingers and drifting away to some place dark. Somewhere she dared not venture.

Hours seemed to fly by for the girls who barley said a word to each-other. Neeta spent most of her time pacing around the shop doing more admiring than actual work. There were times when she had tried to raise a conversation from her friend but after the third time of realizing Eve wasn't currently in this world she gave up the task. She truly worried about her darling. Whatever had happened to her last night was taking a mental tole on the small woman. Her normal prim and proper attire was now slightly askew. The dress and skirts she wore today were not our of ordinary, simple colors that did little to stand her out from the lifeless maniquins that littered the room, her hands were not slowed by whatever had happened, but her her bun was not as tightly bound against the back of her head. In fact it was held loosely at the nape of her neck to which a few whispy baby hairs danced about at the cusps of her ears and neck. Even the normal gentle wondering look was replaced by something more dark and curious. She knew from years of friendship that something was weighing heavy in Eve's mind.

All was quiet within their working quarters. Neeta was pulling a pink scarf from a rack of many, and twirling it about herself while Eve was hunched over whatever needle point she was adding to a vest. As Neeta danced around the shop there came a knock at the door that pulled her attention away from her frolicking. "Come in", she called. There was no answer. A head full of flames tilted to the side in curiosty as she danced her way to the door. Perhaps they didn't hear her.

Pulling open the door she was met with nothing but empty space aside from a stage boy walking by with large beams of wood held upon his shoulder. Leaning her head out she looked up and down the hallway but saw no one who seemed as if they had just been knocking. For a moment she stood there in the empty door frame confused. As she was leaning back to close the door something on the threshold caught her attention. There laying among the dirty ground was a single rose with a note tied to it with a black ribbon.

"What the he-", she whispered while leaning down to retreive the strange gift. She closed the door absentmindedly while staring at the rose in her hand. Turning it around there was something written on the back of it.

At the strange silence that had settled around her, Eve brought her head up from her task and looked back at Neeta who was standing stock still in the middle of the room with a look of shock. "Neeta, who was it?", she asked.

When she didn't her Eve set her task down and rose from her spot to make her way to her silent friend. Neeta simply stood there with a rose in her hand and a note staring blankly up at her. "Neeta? What's that? Who is it from, one of your many love-sick puppies?", she teased. Her taunt was received with nothing. Not even a quick retort. "Neeta?".

What seemed like eternity passed before Neeta's eyes rose to look her dead in the eyes. Something about the look in her eyes made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. Whatever was written on the note could only be bad news. With slow hands Neeta passed the flower to her. "Me thinks this is for you, Eve", she whispered.

"My goodness Neeta did the Pope die?", she said smartly while taking the note from her.

The rose was very large in her tiny hands and the smell that permeated from it's peddles filled and warmed her mind. Never before had she smelled a rose quite like this one! From just the one single bud it smelled as if she were now in a room full of the intoxicating flower. With the smell of rose now taking over her mind she read the beautiful script in such a startling black ink; the crisp white parchment it was written upon seemed whiter than the holiest of snow.

'My tiny dancer,  
I will come for you.  
O.G.'

Over and over again she read the note. The first eight times seemed to simply skip over her memory. After another pass of the note something settled into her memory. The memories that had eluded her since last night; and had been plaguing her thoughts all day, came flashing brilliantly to the front of her consciousness. The fear, the curtain, the man in the mask all flashed through her eyes in such a gusto she didn't realize her free hand came rushing up to her mouth to shield her silent gasp. The man had been real! He had been there and he must have brought her back to her room after the tumble she'd taken!

Slowly her eyes lifted from the note to look at Neeta was still standing quietly in front of her.

"O.G..", She said.

Eve's eyes searched Neeta's eyes for any source of reality.

"O.G...the Opera Ghost, Eve. The opera ghost was just here...and it says he's coming for you. Oh Eve what did you do?", she gushed. In a fluid motion Neeta took the note from Eve's hands and tossed it carelessly to the side then grabbed her up in a bone-crushing hug. "What is happening here Eve?", she asked.

The state of shock had yet to release its claws from Eve. So many things were running through her mind. What did he want? What _did_ she do? What was she going to do? Was this some sort of sick joke?

The sound of someone coming into the door jarred Neeta from her hug. Madame Giri came into the shop with the normal stiffness of a freshly pressed corset. Her hard eyes glanced around the messy room with a look of disinterest. Those hard eyes came to settle upon the women in their close encounters which merited a delicate eyebrow to arch in questioning. Neeta quickly took a step away from her friend and began to open her mouth but was quickly stopped by a single hand wave of the Madame.

"Evaungaline, I've come to inquire where you were for dinner last night", she said icely.

"She was here resting in her room. She said she wasn't feeling good on our way to dinner, Madame", Neeta answered. Secretly Eve thanked her for coming to her rescue. The note had her tongue tied up and her words eluding her.

"Is this true Evaungaline?", Giri's attention was now back on target.

Desperately searching for words Eve couldn't find, she settled with a simple head nod. The head tilt that came from Madame had her back peddling quickly and stumbling over her words. "Ah, y..y..yes Ma'am. I'm still not feeling quite alright today", she said messily. Her heart beat was hammering inside of her ribs so loudly she swore everyone in the room could hear it. She'd never lied to Madame Giri before! What if she saw through their rouse and punished both of them severely?!

The woman stood their for a moment with pursed lips. If she didn't believe the two of them it didn't seem to be that important to her at this moment. "Well, do see to it that your health is kept up Evaungaline, we can not afford to fall behind schedule because you decide not to take care of yourself", she started and turned to face Neeta head on. "As for you young lady, you and I have some business to discuss over last nights risque performance", and with that said she turned to leave.

Both Eve and Neeta gave each other a panicked look. She didn't want to be left alone in the shop knowing that the Opera Ghost could be near by!

"I promise I'll come running back to you. Do not leave this room, Eve", Neeta pleaded as she followed quickly on Giri's heels.

"But Neeta!", Eve started but was cut off when the two of them left the shop. A silent like death fell upon her. What was she to do now?

A heavy sigh racked her chest, heaving it up and then down in defeat. Her eyes skimmed over the, now empty, room only to land on the discarded rose that was now laying upon an old dress skirt on the floor. She walked over to the flower and crouched down; her skirts spilled out around her kicking up a bit of dust. Her tiny hand picked the delicate thing up and held it out in front of her. It was almost uncanny how calm she felt on the inside compared to the fear she had felt last night. The heart throb from just now with Madame Giri had calmed down a bit; but as she held the note from the Opera Ghost she couldn't muster up much more of an emotion than curiosity.

The Ghost had brought her back to her room instead of doing away with her body last night. He could have easily taken her life right then and there when she had been most vulnerable. Instead he delivered a flower to their door step, why? She stood from her crouched position and moved over to one of the many desks covered with a sewing machine and many many pins and spools.

With her attention on the flower in her hands she failed to notice the soft shuffle of clothing upon the racks behind her that blocked the darkness from view. The ribbon attached to the rose and note was pulled away and fell to the floor at her feet. She bent back down to retrieve the falling tie but before her fingers grasped the fabric she paused. From behind her she heard soft footsteps. What should had been fear but was a warm sensation of comfort rushed over her body. Electricity sparked inside of her chest once again raising the hairs on her arms. Quietly and slowly she turned her body upon her toes to see who or what was lurking behind her. When there was nothing in the room with her her breath rushed out in a mixture of relief and...disappointment? Was she honestly disappointed there was no one in here with her?!

"I'm losing my wits", she whispered to herself.

She stood up with the ribbon in one hand and the rose in the other. If she had any hope of getting her head back on her shoulders where it belonged she needed to stop losing her head over the silly opera ghost! Squaring her shoulders and shaking the feeling of warmth from herself she tossed the rose upon the desk and scoffed. "Opera Ghost indeed", she chided. Neeta may have warned her to stay within the shop but if she stayed here a moment longer she would soon drop off the edge of sanity and into a pit of insanity! She was well enough ahead in work to where she could take the rest of the day off and not be set back. She would come find Neeta later when Madame Giri had had enough of punishing her.

Grabbing up a handful of her skirt she twirled around and made a straight line for the door. With two more steps to go till she reached her freedom the sound of a deep voice instantly froze her to the spot. The sweet baritone of a man behind her flooded her ears, shattering the silence like a broken glass. That warm liquid sensation came rushing back into her body igniting every vein within her. The sensation was so strong and sudden her eyes closed and her body was rocked forward as if to make room for the over whelming feeling.

"Darling dancer you flee from me,  
Away to the life you know,  
Let me take you away,  
Turn from them and come to me,

Her body burned from the inside out. Every atom of her being begged her muscles to obey and turn around to reveal to her what she already knew was there. The voice boomed around her drowning out all sense leaving her drowning in a pool of sheer ecstasy and sensuality. Slowly her body swayed back and forth but stayed where it was. As if by sheer subconscious will she did not turn around, she did not give into whatever emotions were taking over her body. If she turned around then all of the anxiety and imaginings of him would come to life and it would all be real. He was coming closer to her. She stood still. He was but a meer few steps from her and his voice was growing stronger and stronger inside of her. She continued to stay still.

A deep heat was building in the depths of her belly. It coiled and swirled about like a serpent had been placed inside of her and was threatening to burst forward and explode in a flare of fire and smoke. Seconds ticked by as she waited for what was going to happen, it was if she was stuck between wanting to run from the room and turn around to bring all of the darkness to light. Like the warm flickering fingers of a warm fire touching cold skin she felt two hands touch the small of her back, spreading heat in their wake as the snaked around her hips.

There would be no need to turn around. This was real. He was real. He was there, living and breathing, behind her. Still her eyes remained shut, tightly. His voice came to the soft shell of her left ear to which like a trained cat her head tilted to the side on its own accord. The strange hands made burning paths slowly up the rough material of her corset just under her breasts. Her rib cage had suddenly became a cage to her own feelings. The snake of burning desire traveled up from her belly and burned like liquid fire behind her chest, following his hands. Once again the beating of her heart was so intense she could promise that the man behind her could hear it.

His voice was casting a spell upon her body! The bun at the base of her neck acted as a small pillow, telling her that her head had become so slack that it was laying against something very hard and very warm behind her. Like a longing lover her small frame began to move and arch into the prowling hands while losing itself into the dark magic that had filled the room. His left hand remained its soft caressing of her ribs and sides while the other traveled low on her side; grasping her thing hip so tightly it caused a small gasp to burst from her lips. Her eyes came fluttering open but did little to actually see anything in front of her; there was a haze in front of them as if the room was suddenly full of a dense fog. And still his hands caressed her body.

The hand that stroked her ribs slowly made its way to the center of her chest and traveled up between her breasts to the delicate skin of her throat. His other hand snaked its way across her belly easily grasping onto the opposite hip that seemed to call out to be equally lavished upon. The song that had lured her senses into submission stopped and was replaced by him speaking something into her ear. Never had she let herself be in such close intimate counters with another human being. The hot breath that now played with the soft skin sent a shiver down her body; her nipples stiffened beneath the hard material and a soft moan escaped her lips.

"I have found you", he said.

Without another word spoken her body was whipped around suddenly sending her vision hand skirts into a flurry. Before she could focus she felt warm lips crushed against her own. It was a kiss like she'd never had before. It spoke of possession, darkness, danger, and of him. Strong hands clamped down upon both of her hips holding her in place; tightly against his much larger from dressed in all black. His lips conquered her own with smooth finesse; they demanded something of her she did not know how to return. His scent was mingled with the same intoxicating spell that the rose had had and it threatened to suffocate her! Inside her belly and chest the heat that been building up became so intense that her mind began to go blank. The lips that mastered her own refused to part from her and her lungs were beginning to burn just as much as her belly. He was going to steal her breath away!

The sudden fear of death washed over her like a cold rush. Something was terribly wrong here! What was she doing?! All at once her body was brought back to life with her realization. Lashing out with all of her might she pushed her small frame away from his body; the tight grip he had upon her slipped painfully away as she turned in a tizzy and made a leap for the door. From behind her she heard him call after her in a stern voice. "Evaungaline! You can not run from me. You will be mine!", he called. His promise was not one made of anger, it was such a soft demand that it caused her heart to skip a beat as the door was yanked open and fell into the hallway.

To her disdain there was no one there for her to all out to. Picking her skirts up she made a mad dash down the hallway towards the busier end of the building in hopes of getting herself as far away from the shop as she possibly could. Her lips were now swollen and pulsing from the phantom, it was a reminder to her to keep running until she was a safe enough distance away and the phantom had not followed her.

It was a moments run before she began to see a steady flow of people moving about preparing this and that for the next show. Her feet came to a slow halt to which she had to lean herself up against a wall to catch her breath. There were very few opportunity for her to go running through the hallways so her lungs were on fire from the sudden exercise. Her hands came down and supported her upper body upon her knees as her lungs greedily sucked in the air she had been deprived of and her mind spun once again. The phantom was real. He had been there, touching her body, and had stolen a violent kiss from her. Everything had gone terribly wrong! What exactly had just happened?

Wildly her eyes darted all around her. She was getting odd looks from everyone who passed by her with their work loads held in their arms as they went about their work. It was probably quite a scene to see her leaning there gasping on air for dear life. Dash their looks and their opinions! They hadn't just been harassed by a figment of their own imagination brought to life! There had been a ghost in her shop and he had taken it upon himself to touch her body...invade her personal space, and she hadn't ran away instantly...why?

Once her breath was leveled enough she stood up and leaned her head back against the cold wall that was supporting all of her weight. What was she going to do now? She could tell Madame Giri...tell her that there had been a ghost in her room that had physically assaulted her and touched her body...and was probably gone by now. The woman already thought she was sick; she'd probably blame it on her sickness and that she was "seeing things". Nevertheless even if that was what she said she needed to talk to somebody. Somebody of sound mind who could help her.

With her mind made up to talk to Madame Giri, she left her safety zone and took the long away around the opera house; avoiding all dark areas, deserted areas, and most of all her workshop. She needed sanity.


	5. First Encouter (Eric's POV)

_This chapter is going to had a little bit of a different aspect. We're going to get our first look into the eyes of the Phantom himself! I'm giving you all two chapters in less than 24 hours?! What is the world coming to? Now, I won't be doing these POV chapters very often; but if I get some decent feedback I may squeeze more of them in if people prefer them._

'Damn!', Was the loud inward curse he said to himself as she stormed through the hidden passages of the opera house. With each beating footstep he took it was as if the ground beneath his feet would crumble at any given time. The black cap attached to his shoulders whipped angrily behind him, the thick blackness that shrouded his form seemed to almost bend out of his line of vision for fear of the darker soul that tore through it.

'What was I thinking?! I had a plan. My plan did not involve moving so soon!', he yelled at himself once more. It was true; he had once had a plan to lure the curious young woman into his hands. That plan had tact to it, certain events set in motion by later events, but now all of this was tossed to the wind. All because of his inability to control himself around this woman! From the moment he laid eyes upon her in the backs of the opera house he should have stayed far away from her light and stood firm within his shadows.

The first time he saw her had been a mere passing by when he had stalked the opera house before. She was always attached the firey loud woman who he had caught in more than one explicit events. The two of them were polar opposite of each other. Evaungaline was crisp and poised, her small frame hidden by unpleasant corsets and skirts, and her hair was always tightly bound at the top of her head giving her a more strict appearance than was real. The other one, Freeta? Cleeta? The red head was loud and flirty, her clothing matched her personality which was revealing and playful. No matter the large gap in their tastes of life, they were somehow bound together and that relationship sometimes had his attention when he was out and about.

With each passing thought of the young woman his mood dropped faster and faster. Thinking back to his first real encounter with Evaungaline gave his temper a moments pause. It was in the backs of the opera house, she was all alone deep within the darkest reaches where only candlelight would be her companion. It was around the time of Christine's performances (his pupil) and he was making his way through the rafters that no one used; they offered him quick transport. Half way through his journey back to the main cross-sections of the Opera house he had seen her candle light before her. He remembered wondering what someone would be doing skulking about in his domain at this time of night when everyone was either preparing to celebrate or already in full swing.

She had come out of the darkness bathed in the soft glow of her candle. She looked as calm as a resting sea as she maneuvered around on the ground as if she had been there a hundred times. When she had pulled back a curtain that blocked his view from her further adventures, his curiosity got the best of him; for indeed she must know her way around back here to move so smoothly.

One of the rafters he was now perched on branched off perfectly to the left and above the curtained off section she had disappeared into. Careful to make no noise he slowly stalked the rafters, taking his time to get to his discoveries. There was always that same sense of never being in a hurry with the phantom. It was as if his large presence in life demanded time to almost slow for him, not a worry in the world for he always had a plan for everything...well almost everything. With practice grace and skill he was able to get his large frame passed a set of crooked wires that had probably fallen out of place over time. Unfortunately the rafters didn't go much farther than just halfway through the small section of curtained off sanctity so he grabbed a hold of one of the support wires and peered over the edge to watch the young woman.

She went about bringing many candles to life in order to light whatever situation she was creating. After getting herself nice and comfortable he could tell that this place was one she must visit quite often for she knew it well, and it looked like she put quite a bit of effort into arranging the place. What would a small female like her be doing in a place like this, so far away from human contact?

She had started to dance. It took him by surprise for she did not look the dancer type at all. But who was he to judge appearances? At first he was beginning to lose interest in the woman, if she wanted privacy to do her dances then who was he to invade on that? However, the moment he went to leave his vantage point he caught the glimpse of an emotion so close to his heart it wasn't until he was watching her crumble to the floor that he had even realized he'd caused a commotion within the rigging. Cursing himself he backed away quietly into the shadows to stay away from her peering gaze.

The look upon her face at that moment haunted him. It was a pained look, one of anguish and above all, torture. She was striving for something so desperately that there was no mistaking that look. He knew that look all to well; every time he happened to find the courage to look at his own ghastly reflection. Torture, it was always there staring back at him. Always and forever taunting and teasing him with a fate he knew he'd never be able to change. His soul was as shattered as the many mirrors in his lair.

In that moment she had been beautiful to him. Her pain had peeked his inner curiosity and he found himself at that same spot again. This time however he had voted for a more tactile hiding space on the ground. She had appeared just as before, bathed in the soft glow of candle light; but her aura was different this time. She was cautious as she came into her sanctuary, looking here and there for any sign of the ghost that had spooked her. Little did she know that her ghost was very close and watching her every move.

There was an unspoken sense of urgency in the air tonight. Eve began another attempt at what seemed to be dancing. From the look of the way she moved about there was an awkward gait to one of her legs. In each of her warm up steps she seemed to favor one leg over the other, which lead him to believe that something was wrong with her leg. Her hands were graceful in their visual display, arching through the air like gentle swans. Her normal collected self was abandoned to a more softer, gentler version of herself that had his concentration so focuses his brow crease above his mask.

Without warning her body began to move like water. She was creating a trance like state for herself and for him as he watched the vivid scene unfold. What had been jerky safe movements turned to strict swift swoops and bows. Electricity coursed through the air with each passing second; electricity that filled his own body and had his emotions of turmoil escaping him and leaking into the atmosphere. It was as if her body reacted to the energy of him for her dance came to a crescendo; she had folded into herself and had taken pause. In this pause he softly pulled in a gasp of air deep into his lungs and held it there. He felt that if he was to release this breath of life before she had completed this dance that whatever sweet demon had possessed this room now would shatter instantly and all would be lost.

She was a gorgeous creature right then and there. There was no holding back, no sense of duty or pride within her, there was no care in the world right at the moment for her and when she thrust herself up and into the candle light he found himself lost in the longing expression upon her face. Whatever fight she had been waging within her small chest seemed to break free and leave her completely liberated from her own chains. It wasn't until he noticed the sudden shift in atmosphere that he realized he had moved from his shadows into the light. Subconsciously he had moved closer to the creature in front of him as if he could take her into his arms and snatch away that light that emitted from her and take it for himself in a selfish attempt of self relief. She had seen him. And when their eyes locked the spell had broken and she took a tumble to the hard unforgiving floor.

In his massive body he stood there for just a moment before slowly approaching the now dazed female. She lay upon the ground in a crumpled mess of arms and legs and god help him she still looked just as beautiful as she did conscious. He debated whether or not he should leave her there for her friend to find eventually. That firey woman would be quick on her heels eventually and then life would continue on as it had before. The thought of not having this newly found treasure in his life caused a frown to appear on his semi-handsome features. If he had any attempts of capture the light this woman offered for himself, he'd have to keep it here; and take it away from her.

He had made the decision to pick the woman up in his arms and carry her away from her safe haven and into his darkness.

Another rounded corner and he was descending into the deepest parts of the Opera house, underground. Somewhere deep inside the belly of the opera house he had made himself quite the home. It was grand in its appearance, candelabras, velvets, stolen and forgotten stage decor, all of it were just mere show pieces compared to the massive piano that stood in the center of it all. This was where his entire life was created, all of his master pieces, and all of the hard work that went into training the now successful Christine Daia. Christine was normally the only thing that was ever on his mind; for she was his voice, his muse! But tonight his temper was much to focused on his own mistakes to even spare a second thought to the young soprano.

The cape that had been attached to his shoulders was torn from their clasps and tossed to the side. The stuffy jacket that encased his wide shoulders was almost torn from his body and tossed away in the same manner. Left in his white under shirt he threw himself at his piano and gave the sleeve a hard slam of his fist.

His plans for tonight had not involved touching her! He hadn't even planned on approaching her at all; just to make sure she had received his letter and rose. However the moment that woman had left with Madame Giri something had pulled him into that room. She had become almost angry with the note and chucked it up to her losing her mind. The more he watched the woman before him the more the demon inside of him demanded he snatch away the beautiful light that shown from inside of her soul. He had desperately wanted to reach out and capture the woman before she had a chance to get away and then lock her away for his own keeping. He saw nothing wrong with keeping her prisoner in his lair so long as the light she had continued to shine. He could give her mostly anything she could ever desire for, wish for, want...but that would have come in time. Instead he had gotten caught up in her flurry of attitude and couldn't control his need for her light. Instead of leaving her to her own devises that night he had set a trap and pounced.

The feel of her body against his was so foreign and so enticing that her heat still burned against his skin even now. He could describe in detail the tiny waist, the number of ribs in her small chest, the smell of her; god the smell of her was almost too much to bare. She had smelled of sweet flowers and jasmine somehow. It wasn't a perfume she had sprayed for it wasn't over baring; no this was her scent, a natural scent and his body had responded to it in a surprising way. In his belly there came a hunger he hadn't felt in a long time and this hunger came at him with such a force that he had to abandon his senses to it if only for a moment.

Her warmth fueled his body and teased his senses. Just caressing her like that wasn't enough for him. He wanted to taste her, he wanted to dominate her if only for a moment and get a taste of what this little light could offer him. He spun her around to face him and had crushed his own lips to hers and was not prepared for the reaction. Her heat had poured into him and ignited every atom in his being. His taller frame wanted to bend her damn near backwards in his attempt to get her closer to him; he would have crawled inside of her if possible at that moment. His lips hungered for hers in such a demanding way that it shocked himself. What shocked him even more was the small moan he heard at his rough excursion of her body. Somewhere deep in his throat a growl pushed itself forward, but it was such a soft growl that it went unnoticed to her. When he felt that his sanity was going to burst if he did not get this woman under him and begging for his dominance, she suddenly pulled away from him and ran from his embrace. The shock of the sudden loss of warmth snapped him back into his reality.

Now he sat at the face of his piano, mind reeling, temples pounding. Nothing had gone right tonight and he only had himself to blame for that. Whatever had happened tonight would not happen again! His plans for the young woman would be set back slightly but that did not mean he was going to stop. Never before had he seen such a beautiful creature like Ms. Evaungaline. Never before had he seen someone with such an inner light like hers before; her soul must have been so pure that it was shining through its own armor. That woman would be seeing him again, but the next time they would be feeling each other's body will be by her permission. She'd be asking him to touch her by the time he was done with her. If he was ever done with her. 


End file.
